by S. A. Lusher
“Not alive you aren't,” Jennifer growled. Her voice had gained a hard, mean edge.
“I think I'll be fine. See, you'll be too busy fixing the engine I just set to overload.”
Mark and Jennifer looked at each other. Jennifer quickly lost a lot of her color.
“See, I knew you'd figure it out. Have fun.”
“Is he bluffing?” Jennifer asked.
Mark got up and moved over to the captain's seat, activating it and cutting through as much of the extra crap of navigating the menus as he could. Thirty seconds later he had his answer. It was worse than what he'd thought.
“He's not bluffing,” he replied. “The engines are going to blow in ten minutes. And the only way I'll be able to stop it is from the engineering deck.”
“Fuck, let's go, now!” Jennifer said, shooting to her feet.
They both took off running.
* * * * *
They ran.
Jennifer knew that they'd be able to cut off a lot of the journey right away by taking a stairwell that ran from the bridge to the engineering deck. It was a locked stairwell but the keycard Mark had recovered down on the research deck got them into it without a problem. A zombie waited for her on the other side but she put it down with a quick shot to the forehead and blew past it, going down the stairs as quickly as she dared.
Bloodied metal walls flew past in a blur as she raced to the bottom of the ship, listening for Mark's heavy breathing as he kept up with her to reassure her that he was still there. She couldn't fix the engines on her own, she needed him for that. She wished she had some way to know exactly how much time they had left but between Frost's unceremonious announcement and her lack of equipment, it was impossible to know for sure.
So all they had left to do was run.
There were another two zombies in their way on the way down, but Jennifer put them both down as well with hardly a passing glance. She jumped the final stretch of stairs and landed with a heavy grunt on the bottom floor. Rushing up to the door, she slapped the open button, tucked her rifle to her shoulder and stepped out into the corridor beyond.
“Where do we need to go?” she asked.
“Ahead to the end of the corridor, then right,” Mark replied as he finish running down the final set of stairs to join her.
They took off.
There were Rippers in the corridor up ahead.
“Take them out!” Jennifer shouted.
She sighted the first one and took it down with a blow to the right eye that dropped it like a bag of bricks. She repeated the action and took down two more, still running forward. Not easy, but she managed it. Behind her, she heard the pop of Mark's pistol and another one went down. There were two left but she ran past them and so did Mark. He fired at them in passing and managed to at least hit one of them.
Then they were gone, to the end of corridor and turning right.
“Where to next?!” Jennifer asked.
“Straight on, left at the third corridor, follow that to the end and we'll be there!” Mark shouted back.
They kept running. There were zombies in the hallways with them, a few Spitters too, and the Rippers had given chase. Of course. This couldn't be easy. Nothing ever seemed to be. They ran, sprinted, ducked and dodged, snapping off the occasional potshots at anything that got too close. And then, suddenly, they were there. They had come to the primary engine room. It wasn't as large as some of the other vessels Jennifer had served on, since it was for a somewhat smaller ship and more sleekly designed. The result, thankfully, was that they didn't have as much open space to deal with. Workstations ringed the exterior of the room, leaving a relatively open area of space in the middle. There were about a dozen zombies in there with them.
Jennifer slammed her fist on the close button behind them.
“Go!” she shouted as she sighted and took down the first zombie. “I'll cover you!”
To his credit, Mark didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, slipped by in between a pair of zombies, one of which made a perilously close grab for him, and sprinted forward to a large console at the back of the room that was flashing red. Jennifer focused on doing her job. She began working through the zombies, which had divided into two groups, one going for Mark, one coming for her. She popped the first three making for her in quick succession, then turned her attention to the five that were closing in on Mark, who was wholly consumed by his work.
She put down one, shifted, aimed, fired again.
Her gun clicked dry.
“Fuck!” she hissed, ejecting the empty magazine and slapping a fresh one in.
She took aim and fired twice, putting down one of the ugly creatures but only grazing the second one. She growled, readjusted her aim slightly and squeezed the trigger. This one popped the zombie's skull but sprayed the back of Mark's jumpsuit with blood. He cried out in surprised and whirled around, his pistol in hand.
There were still two making their way towards him and another four coming for her. Mark glanced at her, saw that she had troubles of her own as she stepped back out of the reach of the nearest undead horror, and opened fire on his two zombies. Jennifer cursed, put down the one nearest to her with a quick, concise headshot and then turned her focus back to the other three. A moment later, they were dead at her feet. She returned her attention to Mark and saw that he had taken care of his own problems and was back at work.
Jennifer let out a shaky sigh of relief.
Now it was all down to the technician. She waited, checking the corners and shadows of the room, making sure nothing was sneaking up on them. But they were alone. Jennifer began pacing back and forth, worry crawling around in her gut like an icy tapeworm. She'd faced death before tons of times before this but that didn't mean it was necessarily easy by now. She didn't want to die any more than anyone else did but if there was something she could do about it, if it was in her own hands, that usually offered at least some bit of solace.
Not this time, this time all she could do was wait and pace and walk around and worry, relying entirely on Mark and-
“Done,” Mark said suddenly with a heavy breath. “Holy shit,” he whispered as he staggered away from the console, put his back to the nearest wall and sat down.
Jennifer laughed, feeling the tension drain away from her. She walked over to Mark and offered her his hand. “Come on, we need to get to the bridge and make a call.”
Mark looked up at her. He looked like shit. Pale, sweaty, exhausted. “Do you think we could take a break first? Even a small one?”
Jennifer wanted to keep pushing, to say no, but they were alone on this ship now, save for the zombies. Frost was more than likely gone and they were safe for now. She sighed and nodded. “There's a break room somewhere on this deck, I'm sure.”
“I know where we can find it,” Mark replied, taking her hand and hauling himself up.
* * * * *
They found the break room without too much trouble.
It was, mercifully, mostly intact. Mark didn't realize how hungry he was until he opened the mini-fridge and found it packed with stuff. Ah, the joys of working for a corporation. There were a pair of calorie-heavy gourmet meals in the freezer, one of them a trio of beef and cheese enchiladas and the other a Salisbury steak with healthy servings of mashed potatoes and corn. Mark took the enchiladas. They stuffed them both into a large microwave and, while they waited for it to heat up, they each ate a prepackaged sandwich and drained a can of Vex Classic. Mark took a PB and J while Jennifer took a turkey and cheese.
“This is amazing,” Mark said in between bites. “I don't think I've ever had a meal this good, which is ridiculous, considering it's a sandwich.”
“Perception is everything,” Jennifer replied. She took a long drink from her Vex. “Meals taste significantly better when you're A) starving and B) just getting finished fighting for your life. I know this from personal experience.”
“Seems like it,” Mark said.
He finished off his sandwich, drained hi
s Vex, stood, crumpled the can and tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. “I'll be back. I've been waiting to take a leak for...a long time now. How long have we been going at it?”
Jennifer glanced at a clock mounted on the wall. “By my count, nine hours.”
Mark let out a low whistle. “Jeez. Too long.” He yawned, then headed into the small bathroom at the back of the break room and took a long, long leak. Another thing he hadn't realized: his bladder was close to bursting.
He finished up, washed his hands and headed back out into the break room. Jennifer was pulling the no longer frozen meals from the microwave. A fresh wave of hunger washed over Mark and he grabbed another can of Vex before sitting down at the table again. As they ate, he kept glancing at Jennifer. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to her. Physically, mentally, emotionally...she seemed like an exceptional person, much stronger, smarter and tougher than the few women he'd ended up dating.
It was also why he thought he didn't have any kind of chance with her. But if there was one thing his time aboard the Cimmerian had taught him, it was to try anyway.
“So...” he said, then paused and cleared his throat. “If and when we make it out of here, do you want to hang out some time? Get dinner or something?”
Jennifer looked up at him from her meal. She seemed to be considering his words. “You mean like a date?” she asked.
“...yeah.”
She shook her head. “That wouldn't be a good idea.”
“Oh.”
She hesitated. “Not...because of you,” she said. “I mean, I like you...as a person. You found yourself, here. You dug down deep and overcame. And that's amazing. But...” She sighed, seemingly considering her words. “It would never work between us.”
“Why?” Mark asked.
“Well, let me ask you this, do you think you could date me and never have sex with me?”
“I...never? I mean, I'm okay with waiting a while to get to know each other but...never? As in, not for as long as you live?”
“Yes. Never, as in: not for as long as I live. Would you be able to do that?”
“I...well...” he seemed to struggle with it for a moment, then he heaved a sigh. “No...I wouldn't, if I'm being completely honest. Does that make me a shitty person?”
“No! Not at all. It makes you...just like most other people. Like the vast majority of other people. And that's fine. But I'm asexual.”
“Asexual? Like...how?”
Jennifer laughed. “I don't have a sex drive.”
“You've never had sex?”
“Oh, no, I've had sex before. I just hated it. Let me see if I can explain this right...god, it's always so hard explaining this to people. It's like trying to explain colorblindness to a person who doesn't have it. Which, you think would be easy, right? I mean, you'd just say, 'Well, you see shades of gray' or 'I only see black and white' or something like that. Which is fine on paper, but to actually understand it? Well...okay, let me preface this by asking you this, are you bisexual at all? Do you have any attraction to your own gender?”
“No,” Mark replied.
“Okay, imagine being attracted to men...see what I mean? You can, academically, figure out what that must be like. It's like liking women, but liking men. On paper, in concept, that makes sense. But in your head, actually understanding it...doesn't quite work, does it? Well, try to keep that in mind. I have no sex drive. Mechanically, everything down there works. I can get wet and I can feel pleasure down there. And I can take care of myself. I just don't think about anyone when I do. So, I had a boyfriend when I was sixteen and he talked me into having sex. I figured it was just...a thing people did and maybe if I tried it I'd like it.
“But it was...ugh, it was so gross. I mean, I know that sounds immature but, okay, think about it for just a second. Think about all the gross things you put up with during sex. The smells, the sounds, the tastes...you put up with it because you're having sex and you have a sex drive. I mean, that makes sense, right?”
“Yeah...I could actually really see how that would be a problem,” Mark replied, nodding slowly. “I mean, I guess it would be like me trying to sleep with someone I just wasn't into at all. Every little thing I normally would ignore would be super obvious and...a turn off.”
“Exactly! I tried it a couple more times after that but the last time was about ten years ago when I finally just accepted that I wasn't interested in sex at all. But don't let that confuse you. I am interested in romance and companionship. I like hugging and cuddling and sometimes kissing and I can fall in love with someone. But I also understand that almost everyone else is pretty sexual and it wouldn't really be fair of me to ask them to be in a sexless relationship with me. So...that's why it wouldn't work,” Jennifer replied.
“Oh...that makes a lot of sense actually.” Mark frowned as another thought occurred to him. “Is that why you're so...brave?” he asked.
“I don't know,” Jennifer replied. “It's occurred to me that maybe my general control of my emotions is a result of my asexuality. I mean, I've seen a lot of people do a lot of stupid shit just to get laid. So...” she shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Well, thanks for telling me. Uh, maybe we should head up to the bridge and make that call now,” Mark said, standing up.
“Definitely a good idea,” Jennifer replied. She froze, suddenly, as an odd odor came to her. “Do you smell that?” she asked.
“I...yeah, what is...” Mark suddenly stumbled, shook his head, as if trying to get his bearings, then he collapsed.
Jennifer tried to hold her breath, having a short but powerful memory of this exact same thing happening just before she woke up in the stasis pod, realizing that someone must be hitting them with gas again.
Then the world was darkening, and she was falling.
She didn't feel the impact when she hit the floor.
CHAPTER 10
–Captured–
The world came swimming back to Mark.
For a moment, he thought he might be waking up in a stasis pod once more. That wouldn't make much sense, but the sensation was familiar. He quickly dismissed this however as he realized he was in an upright position. He felt pressure against his chest, his ankles and his wrists. Cord, he realized after a second. He was somewhere very bright. Fear stole into heart as he realized that he couldn't move. Mark opened his eyes fully, or tried to, anyway.
Someone was standing in front of him, across the room.
It was Frost.
The immense men leaned against a blank, dull gray wall, arms across his massive chest, frowning, staring hard at him.
“See you're finally up,” he muttered.
Mark tried to say something, but words escaped him for the moment. He coughed instead, then he heard movement to his immediate right and glanced over. Jennifer was tied to a chair as well with thin black cord. She was stirring. She opened her eyes, looked around, locked eyes briefly with Mark, then turned her attention to Frost.
“I thought you were fleeing,” she said.
“I did. I'm not the only one in this little outfit. Boss wanted to see you. A small crew came up to gas and extract you,” Frost replied.
“Why are you telling us?” Jennifer asked.
“Won't make much difference one way or the other.”
“Why'd you betray everyone?” Mark asked.
“I didn't.”
“...what? Your name was on the list and-”
“To betray someone means that you ever had any intention of not doing something terrible to them. I infiltrated that ship with the intention of carrying this assignment out. Me and a few of my associates. Your captain, on the other hand, betrayed you. Him and a handful of other high-ranking officers on that ship sold you out. They were the ones that allowed us onboard, allowed us to do our research. They betrayed you, I was just doing my job.”
“Yeah, just doing your job and you helped kill a thousand fucking people and turn them into goddamned monsters,” Jennifer growled.
/> “That's life,” Frost replied. “Now, I suggest you two shape up and mind your manners. Boss is coming to see you and he's not really someone you want to piss off.”
Mark was thinking of a way to respond to that when the sole door in the room, (at least as far as he could tell, given that he couldn't see what was behind him), opened up. A pale man with short, dark hair made of lean, wiry muscle walked in. His most obvious feature was a false right arm, stylistically done up to look like a chromed metallic skeletal arm. He wore a black jumpsuit with no insignias or logos. The right sleeve was ripped off completely, to show off the arm, Mark imagined. A pair of sharp, brown eyes narrowed and focused on the two of them. He looked...unhealthy, like he was suffering some kind of painful, prolonged sickness.
“So, you're the two troublemakers,” he said.
Mark immediately felt cold with fear. There was a hard, dispassionate edge to the man's face. He had the air of someone who was far too comfortable with death and violence. He seemed like someone capable of doing anything.
The man stared at them both for a long time. Finally, he winced, as though a great tremor of pain had just shuddered through him.
“How did you two wake up?” he asked.
For a moment, neither spoke.
A look of fury shot across his face and the man reached down and extracted the pistol on his hip from its holster. “I asked you a fucking question!” he snapped, pointing the barrel directly into Mark's face.
“I, uh, there was a, um, malfunction, in my pod,” he stuttered.
The man with the fake arm lowered the gun. “And her?” he asked.
“I woke her.”
“And the others?”
“I don't know for sure but they said it was the same thing. A malfunction caused one of their pods to open up and they released the others.”
The man seemed to consider it for a moment.
“Who are you?” Jennifer asked suddenly. “A rival corp? Rogue military faction?”
“What difference does it make to you?” the man asked. He winced again. His flesh and blood hand moved up to his shoulder and began rubbing it. There was something automatic, almost reflexive, about the motion.
